


In A Blooming Grove

by Ludovica



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Light Femdom, giggly sex, gods making good use of their temporary bodies, gratutious use of flowers, hide and seek foreplay, inappropriate use of the valaróma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vána makes Oromë follow her to a grove of ash trees for a tryst amidst chrysanthemums.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Blooming Grove

He was with his Maiar, and some Elves even, as far as Vána could discern from their voices. She stayed behind the trees surrounding the clearing, just peeking out from behind a dark, moss-covered tree trunk, while little white and pink gillyflowers blossomed around her feet.

Oromë towered over the rest of them, as usual. He was more than a head taller than the tallest of his Maiar, and the Elves looked like the children they were next to him. The Valaróma hung by his side, longer than the arms of his Elven hunting mates and shimmering in Laurelin’s light, and Nahar stood just a step behind him, also taller than any of the other horses, nibbling at a leafy shrub.

Vána couldn’t hold back a grin when she sent a train of cerulean forget-me-nots from her hiding spot to the shrub. Nahar noticed them immediately, and followed the trail of flowers to the tree Vána was standing behind. The horse greeted her with a gentle nudge against her shoulder, then he let her lead him behind the trees and away from the clearing, where she rewarded him with a whole bunch of fresh, sweet yarrow.

By now the Maiar had noticed that something was going on. Oromë was completely absorbed in a conversation with one of his Elven followers, and his Maiar didn’t seem to want to disturb him – some of them grinned, though, and when her husband finally turned to look for his horse just to find nothing but a trail of small blue flowers, quite a few started laughing.

“We should maybe disperse for today, my lord”, one of his Maiar said. The Elves looked around curiously, but Vána ducked behind the tree again, hardly able to keep herself from giggling. She heard a low hum coming from her husband, then he agreed with the Maia and bid his fellows farewell.

Vána nearly cheeped with delight as she quickly ran farther into the wood, leaving Nahar behind to eat the gillyflowers that had amassed at the spot she had been hiding at. She heard her husband’s heavy steps coming behind her, and quickly ducked behind a group of thick shrubs to hide from his gaze. His steps stilled quite a few steps away from her, and the low nicker coming from Nahar told her that he was communing with his steed.

Oromë seemed to take his time, and the noises indicated that he was taking off Nahar’s saddle and bridle. When he called for one of his Maiar to take the gear with him, Vána ventured farther into the forest. She tiptoed at first, leaving just the tiniest little daisies in her wake, before a rush of excitement made her go faster, until she was outright running through the forest, jumping over rocks and roots, doing slaloms around the trunks of thick oaks and slender birches, leaving a path of thick bunches of peonies and high peduncles of mallows in her wake.

She didn’t hear Oromë’s steps over the sound of her own heavy breathing and the bursts of joyous laughter streaming over her lips, though she knew that he was behind her. She’d never been any good hiding or chasing, mainly because she always left a track that even the most dilettante hunter could follow, but that didn’t meant that she didn’t take joy in letting Oromë chase after her.

She stopped in a little ash grove after half running, half rolling down a sun-lit slope. With her heart beating heavily and quickly, trying to swallow her laughter, she hid behind one of the ash trees, pressing her back against the light-warmed bark and waited, listening while she tried to hold her breath.

Nothing. She could hear absolutely nothing but the wind gently blowing through the ash trees. No steps, no rustling, no voices.

She frowned, and a mixture of apprehension and disappointment tingled inside of her belly. Why didn’t Oromë come after her? He couldn’t have lost her, the whole slope was a single cascade of brightly colored chrysanthemums. Anemones started to bloom around her ankles when she slowly came out of her hiding spot behind the tree to look up the slope –

Suddenly strong arms were around her waist, and she was pulled back and up against a warm, firm body.

“My little flower is feeling playful today, it seems.”

She squeaked with surprise and joy, and immediately threw her arms back to wrap them around her husband’s neck. She laid her head back onto his shoulder and showered his cheek with kisses. “How did you get down here? You didn’t go over the slope!”

Oromë laughed, that dark, pleasant laughter that made her belly tingle as if a thousand daisies were blooming inside of her. “These are my woods, my little daffodil. And you’re my wife. I knew where you would end up.”

Vána laughed again and ruffled his hair as well as she could in her current position. “Oh, you’re so clever”, she quipped. He grinned and turned to kiss her lips, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense.

He seemed quite in the mood for a bit of ‘playing’ as well.

After a while she started to wriggle in his arms, and he immediately let go of her. She slid down back onto the ground and let Oromë turn her around and push her chin up. She grinned at him as he bent down to kiss her again, and reached back to open his braid, then she let her hand run through his long, silky brown hair. “I like how that body you’re wearing smells after you’ve been hunting…” she cooed against his lips, rubbing her little nose against his bigger one. One of his hands was resting on her back, stroking her gently. “Like salt and earth and herbs… And Nahar…” She grinned again, and he gently nibbled her lower lip before he laid a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m glad you like that, my dandelion… Though I could give it a different fragrance if you’d like.” He nuzzled her soft, strawberry blond hair, and she could feel him grin again. “Lilac today, is it?”

She smiled while her fingers ran over his side, letting one of her hands play with the buckle of his belt. “I’ve not had lilacs in a while… The Children like them a lot. The Vanyar at least.”

“So I wager all of Valimar is purple and pink at the moment?”

“Pretty much all of it.” She grinned again while her hand slowly ran over the soft leather of his belt. He was still nuzzling her hair, and she did the same with his neck, kissing his skin gently while she enjoyed the way his hand stroked her back – then she suddenly took hold of the Valaróma and jumped back, holding the horn up triumphantly.

He looked at her a little surprised, but with an amused gleam in his brilliant green eyes, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Oh no, it seems I have been robbed!” He took a step towards her and held out his hand, still with an amused look on his face. “Give me back my horn, it’s too big for you anyway.”

Big it was, really, and also rather heavy. Neither of the Children would likely have been able to lift it, and even for Maiar it would have been quite a feat. Yet Vána just grinned and pressed the horn against her bosom, touching the mouthpiece with her lips while her gaze was still directed towards her husband’s face. “I don’t think it’s too big, though.” She let the fingers of one of her hands graze the smooth surface of the horn teasingly while she grinned up to him and let her tongue flick over the mouthpiece.

Something in his gaze darkened, and she chuckled and danced a step farther back when he made another step towards her. Hyacinths in different shades of pink sprouted around her ankles.

She fluttered her eyelashes in a coquettish manner, then ran her fingers over the sinuous length of the Valaróma. She sighed lowly and looked down at the horn, before she held it up farther to nuzzle her cheek against it. She looked up to her husband again, who was watching her attentively.

“I really like your horn. I think I shall keep it. To amuse me.” She winked, and he snorted at that. “Unless you’d be willing to give me something more amusing?” She fluttered her lashes again as she looked up at him, trying her best to give her big, violet-blue eyes an expression of innocence.

Oromë clicked his tongue in a chiding manner. “Brazen little flower.” He opened his belt and threw it aside, then he took off his boots. “If I didn’t love you as much as I do, I might have to teach you a little lesson for disrespecting other people’s property.”

Vána’s grin grew wider, and she licked her lips as she watched how Oromë took off his leather vest first and then his tunic, exposing bronze skin over firm muscle. “I’m not disrespecting ‘other people’s’ property”, she said, smirking. “Just my husband’s. And don’t worry, your horn is in very good hands…”

She ran her fingers over the mouthpiece, then let them stroke down again while she was watching her husband – who in turn was watching what her hands were doing. He stepped towards her again while he opened the lacings of his leather breeches, and she chuckled lowly as she kissed the side of the horn. When he had nearly reached her, however, she stepped aside, sending a little field of dandelions over the ground of the grove, and nodding towards the chrysanthemum-covered slope.

He sighed theatrically, but then grinned as he pulled his breeches down. She watched him intently, and even though she knew the look of the fána he was wearing like the back of her hand, clad and unclad, she felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks.

His legs were as muscular as his arms, his hips narrow, and his manhood absolutely proportional to the rest of his tall, strong body. Vána felt a little twitch between her own thighs, and she bit her lower lip while she let her eyes wander over the work of art that his body was. He cast her a knowing smirk, then he stepped towards the slope and sat down there among the flowers. His bronze colored skin and the sunny yellow of the blossoms created a contrast that made Vána’s fingertips tingle. Flowers and skin… Was there any more delicious combination in the vastness of Arda?

Trails of white anemones and dark pink balsam blossoms followed her steps as she slowly approached her seated husband. Oromë was lying down on the slope, his arms crossed behind his head. He was still well able to watch her, and when he saw how she stopped and looked at him again, he spread his legs just ever so slightly to give her a better view – then he grinned, the same kind of grin he had when he knew that he would start to chase his prey in a few moments’ time.

Vána wasn’t going to let him be the hunter in this scenario, though. With a little smile she stepped closer, just one little step, and suddenly vines with tiny white blossoms sprouted from the ground beneath Oromë’s feet and twined around his ankles, contracting until he could no longer move his legs. He tried to do so at first, of course, raising an eyebrow at the vines and then looking at his wife with a questioning glance in his eyes.

She just grinned and carefully put the Valaróma on the ground, before she started to undo the lacings keeping her long, loose dress on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t want you to try and keep me from enjoying you in exactly the way I want, husband.”

Oromë raised the other eyebrow as well now. “So you don’t trust me? That wounds me deeply, my love.”

She felt a grin spread on her face. “I don’t trust you to keep your place beneath me in the throes of our ride, my love. So I help you to remember where you belong…” Her voice was a low purr as she pulled at the last string of the lacing, and her dress slid from her body and pooled around her feet. She stepped out of it and between her husband’s slightly spread legs.

A little coo came from her lips as she knelt down and ran her hands over his thighs. Firm muscle, soft skin, enticing warmth… She sighed and kissed his skin, then climbed over him, with her knees at either side of his body and her cunny rubbing over his cock as she positioned herself, and laid a butterfly kiss to his lips.

His arms were still free, and he made use of this by running his fingers over her legs. His hands were big enough to completely span her thighs, and the rich color of his skin stood out against her pale, freckled skin even more than against the yellow flowers.

“Already so wet…” he whispered as he tried to grind his hips up and against her moist folds. She sighed and closed her eyes as she spread her legs a little wider, keeping her hips far enough off the ground that he wouldn’t be able to enter her, not with his legs tied to the ground as they were. She loved this, the feeling of his blunt head rubbing over the most sensitive parts of the body she was wearing. The very design of the bodies of the Children still amazed her – how wonderful touches felt in some places, and how very different in others, and how much her very body seemed to long for that of her husband.

“Already so hard…” she replied with a whisper, then let just the tip of his cock enter the soft ring of muscles that opened into her body. He sighed under her and tried to buck up into her, but she tapped the ground with two fingers and the vines grew farther, covering more of his legs, until his thighs were also securely planted to the ground. He let out a low growl, but then moaned when she reached down and gave the base of his length a good squeeze.

“So my sweet flower withholds her nectar from me,” her husband gasped and ran his hands up her legs to her behind, squeezing it gently. He didn’t try to push her down though – and so she smiled and stroked his length as a reward for showing such discipline.

“Today you are not a bee feasting on my nectar, my love”, she whispered as she leaned forward and brushed her own lips over his. He smelled of horse and blood and forest, and she hummed lowly as she laid her forehead against his. “Today you’ll be a fly, and I’ll trap you and devour you…”

She could feel the smile on his lips when he kissed her. “I’ll surrender with pleasure, my love…” His voice was hardly more than a breeze brushing through beech trees.

She shifted back slightly, until she could feel his blunt tip again; then she lined it up with her entrance, sinking onto it so that it was breeching her muscle. She sat up when she started to push down, and a sigh came over her lips when she felt how he slowly filled her. His hands were still on her rear, and his own groan and the press of his fingers made his own need obvious.

She opened her eyes ever so slightly when she finally felt the curls between his legs and her own rub together. Her body was filled with heat, and it was hardly bearable not to move, but she wanted to see her husband, read the lust on his face.

And he did not disappoint her – he never disappointed her. His face was as flushed as her own, even though it was harder to see it through his darker skin; it was more like a dark wine-colored sheen than the scarlet that bloomed in her own cheeks, like black cosmos, chocolate cosmos, fragrant like his skin, shining like his hair. She kissed his lips, sighing in delight as her muscles clenched around his length and his hips rolled into the grip of her sex.

She kissed his cheek, and he nuzzled her jaw, then one of his hands left her rump and ran up over her back, tickling along her spine and running through her hair until it came to rest at the side of her head. Gently he tilted her head, and again their lips met, warm and lazy and savoring every last nuance of flavor. The hand that still was on her rear stroked over her thigh and below her curls, rubbing the petals that were stretched around his pistil. She sighed against his lips, then she sat up again, moaning lowly as the motion made his length push farther into her.

She breathed out slowly, closing her eyes again and just enjoyed the feeling of being so utterly _full_ for a moment. Neither of them was in a hurry; their bodies were needing, yes, and hurting for completion, but they were stronger than their bodies, and they could control them to their choosing.

But finally she did start to move, slowly at first, rocking motions, coaxing low, drawn-out moans from her husband. Oromë grimaced for a moment, then he relaxed again and opened his eyes as well, looking right into those of his wife. He smiled and let the hand that rested on her head run down over her shoulder, her arm, to her thigh and up again, until his rough palm rubbed over one of her breasts, teasing the little light-red bud at its tip.

Vána sighed and began to move a little faster, up and down now, eliciting another low moan from her husband and making him grasp her breast harder. She moaned as well now, and laid her head back slightly as the movements of her hips became faster, pulling off his cock farther with every movement, just to take all of it in again as she sat back down.

His hands were hot as they both slid to her hips, leaving their warmth on her breast and buttock. She looked down at her husband again, locking her eyes with his and feeling his soul, his true being, undulating against hers. She sighed and started to move again, and Oromë’s hands slid down onto her thighs, feeling her tensing muscles as she lifted and lowered her rear and enjoying the feeling of being stretched by him, of the slide of his hot, soft, wet skin against the sensitive, shivering ring of skin and muscle between her legs, right into the soaking heat of her flesh.

His shaft was completely slick after a few thrusts, and her movements got faster and faster until low slapping noises sounded through the grove whenever her wet sex met the base of his. She braced herself with one hand on his chest, feeling the hard, rippling muscles under his soft, warm skin, and arched as the heat of both of their bodies mingled and rose with every motion of Vána’s body.

Her orgasm came first in little twitches in the depths of her sex, twitches that turned into shocks of pleasure shooting through her sex and her body, making her toes curl and her fingertips dig into her husband’s chest. She moaned as she sped up her motions, riding out her climax and getting even faster, until the last tidal wave of lust made her cry out. Her body seemed to explode, white light filled her vision, and she pressed her hips down a last time, pushing her knees and toes into the soft grass. She felt his body shudder beneath her as she took all of his length in again, and with a growl and hampered, but violent bucking up into her heat, Oromë spend himself inside of her.

She had shut her eyes sometime through her orgasm, and she kept them shut as she slowly started to regain her breath. Her lower body still pulsated with the aftershocks of their joining, and her muscles still held tightly onto her husband’s softening sex. She sighed softly, as the last waves of warmth subsided and the mild forest breeze chilled her skin.

“Uhm… My flower… Could you maybe…?”

Frowning in confusion, Vána opened her eyes and looked down to her husband – and then laughed as she saw his plight. She had already wondered where his hands had gone – now she saw that they were bound to the ground as much as his legs where, with vines with large red blossoms. Another vine had grown over his chest, thick and succulent and with violet flowers. And a sort of thinly twined climbing plant had also found its way into Oromë’s shining brown hair.

“I am so sorry, my love”, she giggled, then she tapped two of her fingers on the ground twice. The vines came loose and pulled back into the ground. With a little grin she ran her fingers over the thick vine over his chest and let it coil around her arm like a thick snake, before she sent it back into the soft, fragrant soil as well. The vines holding his legs also vanished.

Oromë sat up and pulled her into an embrace, then kissed her lips. “I am glad that I could give you such pleasure”, he whispered against her lips with a wicked grin. “I take this little additional ‘embrace’ as a compliment.”

She giggled against his lips. “You can definitely take that as a compliment. Just goes to show how much I want to keep you by my side…” She purred against his lips and ran her hands over the soft skin of his sides. Then her grin turned wicked as well, and she tensed her muscles around the cock still inside her.

“Since your legs are free again, maybe you should make use of them…” she whispered.

She felt a low growl run through his whole buy, then he grabbed her hips and rolled her onto her back into the bed of yellow flowers.

“If you say so, my sweetest blossom.” His green eyes sparkled as his fingers found her breasts again.


End file.
